Having returned to the regiment and reported to the commander the state of Denisov's affair, Rostov rode to Tilsit with the letter to the Tsar.

On the 13th of June the French and Russian Emperors met at Tilsit. Boris Drubetskoy had asked the important personage on whose staff he served to have him included in the suite appointed to attend at Tilsit.

Je voudrais voir le grand homme, he said, speaking of Napoleon, whom up to that time he, like everyone, had always called Buonaparte.

Vous parlez de Buonaparte? the general said to him, smiling.

Boris looked inquiringly at his general and at once understood that this was a jesting test.

Mon prince, je parle de l'empereur Napoléon, he replied. The general, with a smile, patted him on the shoulder.

"You will go far," he said to him, and took him along.

Boris was among the few present on the Neman on the day the Emperors met; he saw the rafts with the monograms, Napoleon's passage along the other bank past the French Guard, saw the pensive face of the Emperor Alexander as he sat silently in an inn on the bank of the Neman awaiting Napoleon's arrival; saw how both Emperors got into boats and how Napoleon, reaching the raft first, went forward with rapid steps and, meeting Alexander, gave him his hand, and how both disappeared into the pavilion. Ever since his entry into the higher spheres, Boris had made a habit of attentively observing what went on around him and noting it down. During the meeting at Tilsit he asked the names of the persons who had come with Napoleon, about the uniforms they wore, and listened attentively to the words spoken by important persons. At the very moment when the Emperors entered the pavilion he looked at his watch, and did not forget to look again when Alexander came out. The meeting lasted an hour and fifty-three minutes: so he noted it down that evening among other facts that he believed to be of historical significance. As the Emperor's suite was very small, to be at Tilsit during the meeting of the Emperors was a matter of great importance for a man who valued success in the service, and Boris, having got to Tilsit, felt that from that time his position was fully established. He was not merely known — people had grown used to him and accustomed to seeing him. Twice he carried out commissions to the Tsar himself, so that the Tsar knew him by sight, and all those close to the court, far from shunning him as before when they regarded him as a new face, would now have been surprised had he not been there.

Boris lodged with another adjutant, the Polish Count Zhilinsky. Zhilinsky, a Pole brought up in Paris, was rich and passionately fond of the French, and almost every day during the stay at Tilsit, French officers of the Guard and of the chief French staff gathered for dinners and luncheons at Zhilinsky's and Boris's.

On the evening of the 24th of June, Count Zhilinsky, Boris's roommate, arranged a supper for his French acquaintances. At this supper there was a guest of honor — an adjutant of Napoleon's, several officers of the French Guard, and a young boy of an old aristocratic French family, a page of Napoleon's. That very day Rostov, taking advantage of the darkness so as not to be recognized, in civilian dress, arrived at Tilsit and went up to the quarters of Zhilinsky and Boris.

In Rostov, as in the whole army from which he had come, the revolution with regard to Napoleon and the French — who from enemies had become friends — that had taken place at headquarters and in Boris was still far from complete. In the army everyone still went on feeling the same mixture of anger, contempt, and fear toward Bonaparte and the French. Only recently Rostov, talking with one of Platov's Cossack officers, had argued that if Napoleon were taken prisoner he would be treated not as a sovereign but as a criminal. Only recently, on the road, meeting a wounded French colonel, Rostov had grown heated, maintaining to him that there could be no peace between a lawful sovereign and the criminal Bonaparte. And so Rostov was strangely struck, in Boris's quarters, by the sight of French officers in those very uniforms which he had been used to regarding quite differently from the line of skirmishers. As soon as he caught sight of a French officer leaning out of the doorway, that feeling of war, of hostility, which he always experienced at the sight of the enemy, suddenly seized him. He stopped on the threshold and asked in Russian whether Drubetskoy lived there. Boris, hearing a strange voice in the anteroom, came out to meet him. His face, in the first moment when he recognized Rostov, expressed annoyance.

"Ah, it's you — very glad, very glad to see you," he said, however, smiling and coming toward him. But Rostov had noticed his first movement.

"I've come at a bad time, it seems," he said. "I would not have come, but I have business," he said coldly...

"No, I am only surprised that you've come from the regiment. Dans un moment je suis à vous," he said, turning toward the voice that was calling him.

"I see that I have come at a bad time," Rostov repeated.

The expression of annoyance had already vanished from Boris's face; evidently having thought it over and decided what to do, he took him by both hands with peculiar calm and led him into the next room. Boris's eyes, gazing calmly and firmly at Rostov, seemed to be veiled by something, as though some screen — the blue spectacles of conventional society — had been put over them. So it seemed to Rostov.

"Ah, come, please, as if you could ever come at a bad time," said Boris. Boris led him into the room where supper was laid, introduced him to the guests, naming him and explaining that he was not a civilian but a hussar officer, an old friend of his. "Count Zhilinsky, le comte N. N., le capitaine S. S.," he named the guests. Rostov looked frowningly at the Frenchmen, bowed reluctantly, and was silent.

Zhilinsky, evidently, did not gladly receive this new Russian face into his circle, and said nothing to Rostov. Boris appeared not to notice the constraint that had arisen from the new face and, with the same pleasant calm and veiled look with which he had met Rostov, tried to enliven the conversation. One of the Frenchmen, with the usual French courtesy, addressed the stubbornly silent Rostov and said to him that he had probably come to Tilsit in order to see the Emperor.

"No, I have business," Rostov answered shortly.

Rostov had become out of humor the moment he noticed the displeasure on Boris's face, and, as always happens with people who are out of humor, it seemed to him that everyone looked at him with hostility and that he was in everyone's way. And indeed he was in everyone's way, and alone remained outside the newly started general conversation. "And what is he sitting here for?" said the glances the guests cast at him. He rose and went up to Boris.

"All the same, I'm in your way," he said to him quietly. "Let's go and talk over the business, and I'll leave."

"Why no, not at all," said Boris. "But if you are tired, come to my room and lie down and rest."

"Indeed..."

They went into the little room where Boris slept. Rostov, without sitting down, at once, with irritation — as though Boris were guilty of something toward him — began to tell him Denisov's affair, asking whether he wished and was able to petition for Denisov through his general before the Tsar, and through him to deliver the letter. When they were alone together, Rostov for the first time felt convinced that it was awkward for him to look Boris in the eye. Boris, crossing one leg over the other and stroking the slender fingers of his right hand with his left, listened to Rostov as a general listens to the report of a subordinate, now looking aside, now gazing straight into Rostov's eyes with that same veiled look. Each time, Rostov felt awkward and lowered his eyes.

"I have heard of affairs of this kind, and I know that the Tsar is very severe in such cases. I think it had better not be brought before His Majesty. In my opinion it would be better to petition the corps commander directly... But in general I think..."

"So you don't want to do anything — then say so!" Rostov almost shouted, not looking Boris in the eye.

Boris smiled:

"On the contrary, I will do what I can, only I was thinking..."

At that moment Zhilinsky's voice was heard at the door, calling Boris.

"Well, go, go, go..." said Rostov, and, declining supper and remaining alone in the little room, he walked up and down in it for a long time, and listened to the merry French talk from the next room.